


it feels like christmas (when i'm with you)

by ClickBearr



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Holidays, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Multi, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, ironfam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:47:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22186588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClickBearr/pseuds/ClickBearr
Summary: When Tony Stark is seven years old, he asks his parents for an RC car for Christmas. Howard gives him a stern look and turns away, like he’s ashamed of Tony for asking. Maria smiles sadly and ushers Tony back to his room.He decides then that he hates Christmas. He resents the families that have a tree with homemade ornaments, that have dinner together instead of ushering children off to their rooms. He resents the Hallmark perfection that he’ll never have.or: Over the years, Tony Stark has had a lot of Christmasses.
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 18
Kudos: 165
Collections: Irondad Fic Exchange 2019





	it feels like christmas (when i'm with you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peterparkr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterparkr/gifts).



> Peterparkr, I hope you enjoy this!

When Tony Stark is seven years old, he asks his parents for an RC car for Christmas. Howard gives him a stern look and turns away, like he’s ashamed of Tony for asking. Maria smiles sadly and ushers Tony back to his room.

A week later, Maria takes Tony to the Christmas Eve service at the church down the street. Tony’s shirt itches the back of his neck as he sits in the pew, watching candlelight flicker off the walls. The choir wears white and red and their voices echo against the roof and drift down to the congregation.

After the service, Tony and Maria walk to the car that’s waiting for them, crunching through the snow that glitters on the ground. It catches the light spilling out from the church and reflects it up to the heavens, sparkling like Maria’s diamond earrings, like the stars that are barely visible in the New York sky.

Tony watches the congregation gathered on the steps, laughing and talking, as the chauffeur speeds away from the church. The tinted glass dulls the streetlights, and they blur together, sending streaks of color flashing across Tony’s vision.

Tony spends Christmas in his room, staring out the large windows at the slushy gray snow. He can hear laughter and the tinkling of silverware drifting up from the dining room below, evidence of his parents’ Christmas party that he wasn’t invited to.

Later that night, when his parents are asleep, Tony sneaks downstairs and sits in front of the Christmas tree. The white and blue lights reflect against the ceiling, casting everything in a cool glow. Tony remembers watching the decorator artfully placing ornaments on the ends of the branches and draping garlands over the tree. It feels impersonal, he thinks, and feels a sudden rush of anger. He tears a crystal ball off of the boughs and dashes it to the floor. It shatters, shards skittering across the hardwood floors. Tony jumps away, the sharp edges coming dangerously close to his bare feet.

When Howard wakes up and sees the broken ornament, he yells at Tony for being so careless and ungrateful. Tony doesn’t react and stares at a piece of the ornament the housekeeper missed when she swept the floor.

He decides then that he hates Christmas. He resents the families that have a tree with homemade ornaments, that have dinner together instead of ushering children off to their rooms. He resents the Hallmark perfection that he’ll never have.

Tony starts at MIT when he’s fifteen and meets Rhodey when they’re assigned the same dorm. It’s not an instant friendship. They’re skeptical of each other for weeks until Rhodey finally starts to crack the hard shell Tony grew around himself for years. It’s strange, Tony thinks, opening yourself up to a person, but it’s not entirely unwelcome. He likes having someone to confide in and commiserate with. He’s never really had a true friend. When Howard had business associates and their families over for dinner, Tony would occasionally play with the other kids, but sooner or later, he’d do something wrong, say something too sarcastic and ostracize himself. 

Tony sits uncomfortably in the passenger seat of Rhodey’s car, watching as the snow-laden trees flash past. Freddie Mercury’s voice croons _Thank God It’s Christmas_ in the background as Rhodey turns the heat up a few degrees.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Tony says at last.

“No problem,” Rhodey says. “My family’s excited to meet you.”

Tony nods and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Because you’re my friend, y’know. Not because you’re…” Rhodey shrugs.

“Howard Stark’s son.”

“Yeah.” Rhodey glances over at Tony and takes one hand off the steering wheel to put a hand on his shoulder. “You _do_ know that, right? You’re my best friend.” 

Tony takes a breath and feels a sudden heat behind his eyes. He hasn’t cried in years. Looking down to hide his embarrassment, he says, “Yeah. I know.”

Rhodey’s childhood home is small, but Tony would prefer it over a thousand of his father’s New York mansions. Warmth and love seep into every room from between the floorboards and around the family pictures on the mantle. Terrence and Roberta Rhodes greet Tony like he’s their own son, hugging him when he walks through the door. He feels something he’s never felt before. He can’t describe it yet, but he catches glimpses of the feeling as he brushes elbows with Terrence while he cuts his turkey and as he unwraps a sweater Roberta knitted for him.

When Tony and Rhodey leave for MIT two days after Christmas, Tony feels light. Happy. He’s never felt like that after the holidays before, but he thinks it’s something he could get used to.

On December 24, 1991, Tony is drunk. He can’t see straight. There’s a strange taste in his mouth, and he’s not sure if it’s from the alcohol or the fact that he hasn’t taken the time to brush his teeth in three days. Probably both, he supposes, but it doesn’t matter, does it? He’s the last Stark. Howard’s not around to reprimand him for his actions anymore. Besides, he’s not even drinking in public - he’s in the Malibu house, alone, with no press to catch him. That’s gotta count for something, right?

There’s no press, no Howard, but the door opens slowly and Tony glances up to see Rhodey looking at the mess Tony’s made of the house. Eventually, Rhodey’s eyes fall on him, and he seems to slump.

“Tony,” he says.

His name is like a knife. He remembers Maria brushing his hair out of his eyes, whispering to him after Howard was particularly harsh. She said _Tony_ in the same way Rhodey does, and Tony realizes it’s love that’s in their voices. It’s different kinds of love; Maria’s was maternal and apologetic, Rhodey’s is that of a concerned friend.

It’s enough for Tony to drop his glass to the ground. He starts to cry. He hasn’t since he was sixteen and in Rhodey’s car on the way to his first real Christmas.

Rhodey’s hands land on his shoulders and pull him into a hug. Tony shudders.

“I miss her,” he whispers, admitting it for the first time since Maria died eight days ago.

“I know you do, man. I’m sorry.”

“I hate him,” Tony adds, his voice biting and venomous.

He feels Rhodey sigh. “No, you don’t.”

“I don’t,” Tony murmurs, but the confession isn’t a weight lifting off his shoulders. It’s shackles, confining him in guilt because it’s too late to tell Howard. “I don’t hate him.”

They stand there for God knows how long, until Tony’s shoulders stop shaking with repressed sobs. Rhodey finally releases Tony to guide him over to the couch and hand him a glass of water. Tony dutifully drinks it all and falls asleep there in his living room. When he wakes up the next morning and stumbles into the kitchen for coffee, Rhodey’s still there.

“What - aren’t you going to your parents’ for Christmas?” Tony asks, pressing his hand against his temple.

“No,” Rhodey says. “I see them enough. You need me right now.”

It’s in Tony’s top five worst Christmasses, and he forgets more and more of its events as the years wear on, but he remembers Rhodey’s calm assurance and friendship. He doesn’t know how he’d have survived the rest of that year if Rhodey hadn’t been there to help him through it.

Tony spends the Christmas of 2013 in a hospital.

Happy’s doing well. He’s getting better. It’s great. But it’s hard for Tony to look at him when he’s like this, laid up in bed and so fragile-looking.

Tony hides his emotions well, though, as he exchanges gifts with Happy and Rhodey (Pepper already got hers. Both the clean slate and the rabbit, for better or worse). He smiles even as he watches Happy wince when he reaches out. He pretends not to see the pain in Happy’s eyes when he laughs.

His composure must break for a moment, because Pepper nudges him, looking concerned.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

He nods and sits up. “Dandy.”

She doesn’t quite look like she believes him but lets it go until they’re on a flight to the Tower the next day. 

“What’s wrong?”

Tony sighs and leans against the side of the jet. “I don’t know.”

Pepper purses her lips, looking entirely disbelieving. “Is this about the suits?”

“No. I did that for you willingly. I’m starting fresh.”

“Then what is it?”

He crosses his arms and repeats, “I don’t know.”

She waits for him to crack. He does.

“I feel like - this is my fault, isn’t it? This whole,” he makes a vague gesture, “mess. It’s on me.”

“Happy isn’t your fault.”

“It kinda seems like it is. He wouldn’t have gone after that guy if I hadn’t put the thought in his head.”

Pepper tilts her head, a sympathetic smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Yes, he would have. It’s Happy’s nature to defend and protect and investigate.” She pauses. “Kind of like someone else I know.”

Tony lets his head fall to the back of his seat and closes his eyes. He hears Pepper get up and feels her hands on his after a moment. She presses a kiss to his temple.

“Don’t carry the weight of the world on yourself,” she murmurs. “If not for your sake, then for mine.”

It doesn’t feel like something he can truly promise, but Tony nods all the same.

“Everything’s falling apart,” Tony says.

Peter points an icing-covered finger at him. “No. Nothing is falling apart. We can still save this.”

Tony surveys their sorry excuse for a gingerbread house. There’s frosting pooling on the white plastic tray and one of the walls is cracking in half. Gumdrops are melting onto the counter and sticking there. The gingerbread person that came in the kit doesn’t have his left hand anymore. It’s a mess.

“C’mon. You went to MIT. This house isn’t better than you.”

Tony looks up at Peter. “This house is better than both of us combined.”

“You’re lame,” Peter says, and smears some icing onto the side of the fallen wall.

“Why did you want to do this?” Tony asks, watching with half fascination and half concern as Peter supports the house with one hand and sticks a peppermint in his mouth with the other. 

Peter shrugs. “It’s fun. It’s Christmastime. I like building gingerbread houses.”

“And how many times have you done this?”

“Like… every year since I was three.”

“That’s thirteen houses.”

“Yeah.”

“How are you not good at it by now?” 

Peter sticks out his tongue, which is stained red from the candy. “Like I said, you went to MIT. For engineering. How are _you_ not good at it?”

“ _Electrical_ engineering. That’s a completely different thing.”

Peter lets go of the house and hovers his hand by it in case the wall chooses to collapse again. The wall stays, and he starts gluing half of the roof on. “Anyways, I _am_ good at this, see? It has a roof now.”

Tony raises an eyebrow skeptically.

Peter picks up the icing bag and looks around for the other half of the roof. “Do you see the… uh…”

Tony casts a glance down the length of the counter. “Yeah. We used it as a wall.” He spins the house around so Peter can see the shingle pattern printed on one of the walls. The kid’s face slips into dramatic horror.

“Oh my God,” he whispers. “You’re right. I can’t do this.”

Tony pries the icing bag from Peter’s hand and uses it to put the last section of the wall on top of the house. It doesn’t really look right. There’s too much of an overlap. But he figures it’s probably the least of their problems.

“There. It’s fixed,” he says, brushing dried frosting off his hands. “What do we do now?”

Peter blinks. “Uh. Add the candy, I guess?”

Tony picks up the box and shakes out a few more bags of candy. He tears open the Sixlets and lines them up on top of the roof. Peter starts making a path from peppermints. An upturned blue Pixie Stick becomes a pond for some Swedish Fish. It’s all starting to come together.

“What are you doing?”

Tony looks up and sees Pepper standing in the kitchen doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. He makes eye contact with Peter.

“What do you mean, what are we doing?” he asks at the same time that Peter says, “We’re making a gingerbread house.”

Pepper opens her mouth and closes it again. Finally, she says, “Why is it such a mess in here?”

Peter points at Tony. “Mister Stark doesn’t know how to build houses.”

Tony looks at him with a betrayed expression. “I know how to build houses. Who put the roof on this thing?”

“You _just_ said you didn’t know how to build houses.”

“I - whatever.” Tony turns to Pepper. “Besides, it’s his fault anyway. He took the icing bag and went _wild._ ”

Pepper shakes her head, but Tony can see her lips twitching up. “Okay. I’ll just leave you two to… whatever it is you’re doing.” She leaves the kitchen.

Peter looks at Tony, his eyes wide, and then they’re both laughing, the sound bouncing off the walls and filling the room and making Tony feel happier than he has in a long while.

Tony doesn’t celebrate Christmas the year that Peter dies. 

He sits in his lab, swimming in guilt and grief and self-pity. The snow falling outside makes the Compound silent, and he feels so utterly alone. Alone with his thoughts, alone with his memories, alone with Peter’s ghost that clings to the edges of his vision.

He finds himself pulling up Karen’s code and navigating to the Baby Monitor footage. He watches hours of Peter saving kittens and swinging through Queens, waving at the gawking pedestrians on the streets below.

“Do a flip, Spider-Man!” someone yells, and the footage twists for a moment, green blurring into gray blurring into brown until the world rights itself again.

Tony shows up on the feed more than a few times, and he always skips those parts. He can hear the trust in Peter’s voice, can see it in the way Peter’s gestures become more fluid and open whenever the familiar red-and-gold faceplate appears. Tony feels sick, and he runs a hand over his unshaven cheeks. There’s a mantra of _I failed, I failed, I failed you_ running in his head.

Tony finally turns off the program when the footage blinks on to show the edge of a school bus and a giant metal donut in the distance. He feels a sinking in his stomach as he reads the date displayed in the bottom left-hand corner and dismisses the video with a wave of his shaking hand. He stares at his reflection in the black screen and takes a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his fist.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into the quiet, letting his tongue learn the shape of the words. “I’m sorry.” He hears the voice in his head, the one that sounds like Peter, whisper it back to him, and it sounds like dust.

“One hot chocolate with marshmallows,” Tony says, walking slowly into the living room so as to not spill. 

There’s a pile of blankets on the couch, and it’s from this that a small hand extends, reaching for the mug. Tony carefully hands the hot chocolate to Morgan, and her head pokes out from under the blankets.

“I wanna watch _Rudolph_ ,” she says as Tony sits down next to her. 

“Okay. We can make that happen.” Tony drapes his arm over Morgan, and she burrows into his side. “Fri, you heard Her Majesty.”

The TV screen blinks on and the familiar black-and-white intro to _Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer_ starts playing. Morgan takes a sip of her hot chocolate, her wide eyes reflecting the claymation characters as they frolic in the snowy North Pole. Tony brushes a hand along the top of Morgan’s head and sighs. The holidays are still hard for him. The anniversary of his parents’ death was just a few days ago, and Peter always loved Christmas and everything to do with it. And yeah, Tony has Morgan now. He’s not drowning in his grief quite so much anymore. But sometimes, when he’s working in the lab, he thinks Peter’s going to come bounding in, grinning and talking a mile a minute. He expects to see a familiar head of curly hair when he’s in the kitchen, softly humming AC/DC to himself. Peter’s absence is an ache, a hole, in Tony’s heart.

Morgan’s head tilts downward suddenly, and Tony wrenches himself out of his head to grab the half-empty hot chocolate before it spills on the couch. He sets the mug on the side table and carefully readjusts himself so that Morgan can be in a more reclined position. She sniffs and curls further into the blanket she has wrapped around herself. Tony rubs his thumb on the soft skin on the back of her hand, sighing.

It’s not like he’s completely given up hope of getting Peter back. It’s just… the prospect seems pretty impossible, and Tony’s tried everything he can think of to get the stones back. Time travel just messes with so many things, and- he doesn’t wanna feel like he’s picking between his kids. He doesn’t, and he really tries not to, but he already has Morgan. She’s safe. It’s highly likely that any attempt to reverse what Thanos did will result in Morgan’s disappearance, almost like she never existed. And what if it doesn’t work anyways, and Peter doesn’t come back? Tony would just be an empty shell of a man, rattling around in his head. No, he thinks, it’s too risky to change anything. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, and all that.

But _God,_ he misses Peter. He misses him on his occasional trips back to the city, when he sees monuments dedicated to Spider-Man. He misses him in the car, when Peter would sing loudly along to the radio. He misses him now, because Peter should be here, watching _Rudolph,_ napping with his sister.

Tony sniffs and looks back to the TV, where the reindeer are singing _Have a Holly Jolly Christmas._ He presses a kiss to Morgan’s forehead and whispers, “Maguna. Your movie’s almost over.”

Morgan scrunches up her nose and stretches. She opens her eyes to see the screen and frowns. “Can we watch it again? ‘Cause I missed it?”

Tony laughs, ignoring the way his throat is still tight. “Sure. FRIDAY, roll it back.”

The intro starts playing again, and Morgan lets her head fall against Tony’s chest.

Yeah, he decides. He’ll keep trying to get Peter back, but things aren’t too bad right now.

Peter’s sitting on the edge of the dock when Tony finally finds him. His toes brush the thin layer of ice that covers the surface of the lake, and his head is tilted up, looking at the chilly blue sky. 

“Hey, kid,” Tony says softly, slowly lowering himself to sit next to Peter.

“Hey, Mister Stark,” Peter murmurs. “How’s the party going?”

“You have a couple of Earth’s Greatest Heroes wondering where you are. I think Thor wanted you to try some of his Asgardian liquor.”

“Would you have let me?”

“Ha. No,” Tony scoffs. “No alcohol for Spider-Babies. Not even at Christmas.”

Peter hums and looks to the opposite bank. Tony feels his stomach sink.

“What, no ‘I’m not a baby, Mister Stark’?” he asks. “You okay, Pete?”

“I don’t know.” Peter’s voice breaks on the last word.

“Whoa, hey.” Tony catches Peter’s chin in his hand, searching his face. “What’s wrong?”

Peter takes a shuddering breath and blinks away the tears gathering in his eyes. “I just - y’know, it’s only been a few months since the - since you…” He gestures helplessly to Tony’s prosthetic arm. “And I feel like - when it was happening, I was just - watching, and you have a daughter, and you need to take care of her, but you only have one arm. And I’m - I’m stronger than you, I could’ve-”

“Okay, no,” Tony says. “This was all my idea. My fault. I knew the risks and I was prepared to take them.”

“But-”

“Ah, ah, ah. No buts.” He smiles gently. “And I lived, didn’t I?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“I got my kid back, didn’t I?”

“I - what?”

Tony nudges Peter with his shoulder. “You really think I invented time travel to resurrect Strange?”

“I didn’t… think about it, I guess.”

“Uh huh. I can tell.”

Peter hesitates, then looks over at Tony with a slight smile. “Can you teach me how to time travel?”

“ _No._ ”

“Aw, come on, Mister Stark. Just think of how much homework and patrolling I could get done - it’d be like there were three of me-”

“No, Pete,” Tony says, but he’s smiling. “Anyways, help me stand up. I think your sister’s been wanting to open her presents for the last five hours.”

Peter grabs Tony’s arm - the metal one, because it’s stronger - and hauls him to his feet. Tony pulls him into a hug once they’re both standing, resting his cheek on top of Peter’s head.

“Merry Christmas, Pete,” he whispers.

Peter squeezes him a little tighter. “Merry Christmas, Mister Stark.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be about a thousand words shorter, but then I wrote a thousand words of Tony being depressed over Peter (which is a mood, ngl).
> 
> If you enjoyed, feel free to leave a kudos/comment!


End file.
